Flawless
by Foreverwolf
Summary: What happens when Alex has nothing left to lose? WARNING: Yassn/Alex Slash, and probably borderline PWP, Dark Alex! Dubious consent. There IS a plot, lol. Oh, and Alex is 14, though his mental age is much older.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Aha! I think I have finally written something that wasn't riddled with angst! Um, but there's lots of sex in it, (no non-con, but rough), so be careful, young readers! It's rated M for a reason. But yeah, definitely dialled down the angst factor… er, at least, I tried. Actually, I'm almost pretty sure this borders on the PWP area, lol. It's definitely not up to my usual standard, but I felt like writing it, so...

Oh, and it's AU. Set sometime before SCORPIA, but when Yassen was alive. Yeah, I didn't really care too much about the timeline. There's no spoilers in here.

I have reread the series a couple of times now, and watched the movie a thousand more. There really is NO set character for Yassen! There's an idea, but mostly it's entirely up to the reader to develop his personality as she/he sees fit. And we only ever see Yassen the Assassin, leaving Yassen the Man completely open to twist however our freaky little minds decide to do it.

So, no complaining about being out of character! As for Alex, lol, I tried to stay in his normal character with this, as much as I could. You'll understand more at the end.

Enjoy!

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Flawless

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Alex jerked awake, sitting up, and breathing heavily. He felt as though he had somehow run about ten miles in his sleep. He blinked at the nylon walls of the tent, trying to get his bearings.

He could feel sweat cooling on his skin as it hit the chill night air, and shivered a little. Closing his eyes, he willed away the last remnants of his nightmare.

"Are you all right, mate?" Tom Harris called from his sleeping bag. He could see his friend was shaken by whatever this nightmare had been about, but was trying to get himself under control. Nor did he miss the automatic scan Alex did of his surroundings, as though trying to pin point the danger.

Alex frowned. "Something's wrong."

"It was just a nightmare, Alex. We're in my back yard, what could possibly be wrong?" Tom yawned as he rolled over.

Alex shook his head, wondering if perhaps Tom was right. But he could feel it still, that panic he had become accustomed to, that sense of 'move, and move _now_' that had saved his life on countless occasions. It was a little different this time. This time it felt like an echo, as if it were reaching out to him from somewhere else.

"Jack," he whispered, grabbing a shirt and untangling himself from his sleeping bag.

"Where are you going? It's three in the morning," Tom complained, but nonetheless grabbed his own shirt. He'd been around Alex long enough to trust his instincts. Both boys stumbled into the winter night in their PJ bottoms, tees and shoes.

"I have to go home for a minute, Tom, I'll be right back," Alex called as he grabbed his bike and took off. He knew Tom wouldn't be far behind him.

It was a ten minute bike ride to his house, but Alex made it in five. The house looked dark and silent, as it should, but his internal alarms were blaring at him to stay out of it. Ignoring it, he opened the door and rushed inside.

"Jack?" he yelled as he raced through the house, his panic going up with every moment he was here. "Jack, answer me!"

There was no answer, and he rushed up to her room, throwing on the light as he entered. She was there, lying in bed, a book folded over her breasts, one hand slipped between the pages to keep her place. As beautiful in sleep as he knew she was awake, only more still.

And a bullet hole between her still closed eyes. The pillows behind her were soaked with blood. She hadn't even twitched in her sleep as the gun was fired. Alex shook his head as he moved closer to the bed, not quite believing what his eyes were telling him.

"No, Jack. Not you, please," he whispered, even as he knelt by the bed, taking her still warm hand into his and putting it against his cheek. She hadn't been dead for very long, but his instincts weren't screaming at him anymore. They'd fallen silent the moment he saw the danger, except the danger had never been his.

Whoever had done this was long gone, leaving no trace.

He heard Tom come up the stairs, the slightly heavy footsteps long familiar to him. He heard the gasp. He heard Tom rush to the phone beside the bed. Heard Tom call 911. And didn't care. He felt separate from the world around him. All that existed was him, holding Jack's hand. There were no tears, no sounds of grief. Just perfect stillness inside a bubble of activity.

"Alex, mate, you have to move. They're coming and they don't want us to disturb the scene," Tom whispered gently, as though afraid to wake the woman. He could see his mate was in shock, and didn't really blame him. Alex had woken from one nightmare only to walk into another. "Is there anyone else we need to call?" he asked, meaning MI6.

But he got no response from Alex. His eyes were locked onto the dead woman's hand, as though all the answers for what had happened here tonight lay there. His thumb was running over the hand, somehow trying to rub life back into that hand.

Tom sighed and went downstairs. He knew he should try harder to get Alex away, but if anyone understood what was really happening here, it was him. Jack Starbright had been Alex's last link to any kind of a normal life. Tom wasn't so foolish as to think that MI6 would leave Alex alone, now that they'd lost their blackmail material. There was no way to keep Alex out of their control now.

Closing his eyes with the grief Alex refused to show, Tom mourned what would probably be the loss of his best mate, and the changes he knew were coming.

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Alex stared at the coffin as it was slowly covered by sand. He didn't need to look around to see that their were MI6 agents everywhere, closing in on him like a hunter to its wounded prey. He ignored them.

His focus was on Jack's parents. Jack had asked, in her will, to be buried in London, strangely enough. They had flown up from America to be here, and were standing opposite him, quietly shedding tears. He wished he could too. But, like his Uncle, Alex was unable to cry. This was his fault, his instincts hadn't warned him soon enough. He couldn't mourn until this had been made right. He took a deep breath and approached them.

"I- I'm sorry," he whispered to them, unsure of what to say. He had heard a lot about these people, but had never met them.

Jack's mother, Alice, turned her eyes to the boy. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, a defeated slump to his shoulders. He was dressed in a nice black suit- she couldn't know it was the same suit he had worn to this very graveyard not six months ago- and his hair neatly combed back. He wore no coat, as if he couldn't feel the chill. There was a cold edge to those eyes, a burning determination she didn't understand. And, if she were honest, a dangerous glint that she didn't dare to interpret.

Still, this was the boy that Jack had given up her schooling to care for. Alice wondered vaguely what would become of him, now that he'd lost his Uncle as well as his Guardian. She suspected he was wondering much the same.

"It's all right, Alex. We're just glad you weren't in the house when it was robbed," Alice offered gently.

Alex nodded, and then turned to leave. He hesitated before turning back. "This won't go unanswered," he promised them, knowing they wouldn't understand, but wanting to make the pledge all the same. "If you need _anything_, you can ring the house."

With that, he walked away. He knew he'd be caught soon. He could see Mrs. Jones, lingering in the background, waiting for her chance with him. She waited until he was out of sight of the two grieving parents, and then came up along side him, keeping pace with him.

Without speaking, he held out his hand expectantly, and instantly received the file he'd been hoping for. Opening it, he scanned it's contents, frowning. He stopped walking.

"Are you sure?"

Mrs. Jones nodded. "The police weren't able to find anything at the scene, and our agents weren't much more successful. We came across the hit order yesterday. This was definitely a professional job."

"It doesn't matter."

"Alex, please consider this carefully," Mrs. Jones begged. She knew what he was thinking, and also knew it was very, very risky. There would be no turning back from this. But she could see the revenge blazing in his eyes, and knew there wasn't much she could do to stop him.

"I've thought about nothing else for days. Killing the hit man doesn't matter if I don't get rid of who ordered it."

"They'll only reorganize."

"Then I'll just have to make sure they don't. Give me a location," Alex ordered.

Mrs. Jones hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "They're having a summit meeting in Moscow in February, a month to the day. All of the Executive Board will be there. We think it's safe to assume your secondary target will be returning there now to secure the area. Ironically enough, they've chosen the Cathedral of Christ the Savior in the Bulvarnoye Koltso as their meeting place, as it will be under construction for the majority of the month," she reported.

"Do you have an address for the secondary target yet?" Alex flipped through the file.

"We're working on it. We can have a studio flat rented by the time you get there in the center of Moscow. We'll set up an expense account while you're in the air that should handle the high cost of living," Mrs. Jones listed, for the first time feeling as though she were briefing an older agent.

"Get me some cash to travel with, and a meeting with Smithers. No, I _don't_ need another identity," Alex growled viciously as she opened her mouth. "I _want_ them to know I'm coming."

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Alan Blunt looked up from his file to watch his Deputy as she entered the room.

"It's done, then?"

Mrs. Jones nodded, then shook her head. "I don't think you understand what we've unleashed," she answered quietly.

"I understand perfectly. See to it he gets everything he needs and wants," Blunt ordered.

Mrs. Jones nodded and left the room. She knew Alan was wrong. This was all going to somehow come out badly, she knew. Blunt might be an excellent tactician, but he'd forgotten to factor in one detail.

Alex Rider was a trained weapon, and could be aimed anywhere. However, the aiming took care and precision, as did the timing of it's release. Fire too late and the bullet wouldn't have the momentum it needed to finish the job. Fire too soon, and it would keep on going, leaving a mass of destruction in its wake.

She very much suspected they had fired too soon.

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Tom watched as Alex packed the duffle bag on his bed. "Where are you going?" he asked hesitantly.

"To Russia," Alex answered coldly.

"You know who did this, don't you?" Alex nodded sharply. Tom sighed. "Don't suppose I can talk you out of it?" Alex didn't answer, and merely continued packing.

Tom shook his head. There was an element to Alex now that made him dangerous. He'd never thought of what it was Alex did as anything but super cool. Now, seeing the other side of it, he knew how very mistaken he'd been. This wasn't like TV where the spy came home a little bruised, a little harder, but generally happy to be home.

There was no home left for Alex to come back to. Whatever it was Alex was planning on doing, Tom knew that it would forever change him, if he survived it. Had MI6 sent Alex on a suicide mission? This was a boy he'd never met before. This was Alex Rider, MI6 agent. Dangerous, lethal and very, very _pissed off_.

"I'm not going to see you again, am I?" Tom whispered quietly, making Alex stop his packing for a moment. He wished he could lie to Tom, wished he could somehow paint a pretty picture for him. But he owed his friend more than that.

Alex shook his head. "If I survive, I'll be home before you know I've gone."

Tom nodded, accepting that it was as much hope as Alex could give him. "For what it's worth, I don't think this is what she would have wanted for you."

"Well she's not around to argue, is she?" Alex hissed viciously.

Tom sighed and stood to leave. He wasn't going to sit by and watch as Alex took off for a mission they both knew he probably wasn't coming back from. He stopped at the door and looked back at the stranger who had once been his friend. There was almost nothing recognizable about him. Nothing left of the boy who had camped out in his backyard with him in January only nights ago so Tom could escape his parents fighting.

And that was when Tom truly understood. His best mate had died the night Jack had. He needn't be concerned for that boy in the room, because he didn't know him. And even if he did survive, _Alex_ wouldn't be coming back. It would be hardened man, someone who had killed with intent, and someone who was above the world of school and mates. MI6 had what they wanted, at long last. Special Ops Agent Rider was here to stay. Jack had been Alex's last link to humanity, and now that was gone.

"Good-bye, Alex Rider," Tom whispered, his soul hurting for the mate he had once known, and never would again.

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AN: Now, I'm not going to do it to this one, because, let's face it, this Fic is pretty much crap, lol, but in future Fics, I'm probably going to start posting one Chapt at a time. Just for future reference.


	2. Deployment

CHAPTER 2- DEPLOYMENT.

Alex sat comfortably in the first class seat he'd been given. He flipped through the files Mrs. Jones had given him right before he left. He wondered how it had all gone south so quickly. One moment he was enjoying a cold but fun camp out with his best mate, the next his world had darkened, leaving him alone and hanging on to the edge of an abyss so deep he knew he'd never claw his way out of if he fell.

He stared at a page he had memorized by now. There was no mistaking the face that looked back at him. Yassen Gregorovitch. His secondary target, and the hit man that had ended Jack's- and his- life.

He wasn't fool enough to think he could do this and come home the same as he'd always been. Frankly, he didn't care. He was going to hunt the man down, and then take out the SCORPIA organization. He didn't know much about them, and once again, didn't care. They were targets to him. Nothing more, nothing less.

But it would all end in Russia, one way or the other. Alex was determined of that. MI6 had even managed to track down the Russian's permanent address in Moscow, under the name Sergey Ostrovicha. The studio they had managed to find him was across the street, and had already been furnished. It was awaiting his arrival.

He shifted, and felt the weight of the holster he was wearing under his jacket, the specially made gun nestled next to his ribs. He had another on his ankle, and another, more visible and normal gun, on his hip.

His visit to Smithers before he left had been awkward, to say the least, but he'd gotten what he wanted.

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"_Alex, old boy, whatever are they sending you for now to need such an arsenal?" Smithers had chattered happily._

_There was no humor in Alex's eyes as he looked at his only true friend at MI6. "Assassination."_

_Smithers frowned, as though not quite believing him, but did a double take as he looked closer at the boy. There was something different about him, harder, colder. He sighed._

"_Revenge is a lousy reason to kill, Alex, and I'm rather sorry to say that you'll find no satisfaction in it."_

_Alex nodded. "I don't need satisfaction, Smithers, I just need it done. What have you got for me?"_

"_Three guns, each one specially made to fit your hand, all finger print sensitive. For the moment, they're loaded with blanks. You need to spend some time at the firing range with me to work out any kinks in the balance. None of them have any traceable make, as they are all Smithers Specials. Each one is also equipped with internal silencers, as you requested," Smithers reported sadly._

"_And the safety function?" Alex inquired, testing the weight and balance of each one._

"_There isn't a manual safety, again, as you requested. I don't think it's a very good idea, but Mrs. Jones was quite adamant that I do my best to fill your requirements for these weapons. The safety mechanism is voice activated, and will respond only to your voice. We need to activate it. Please pick a code word, something that isn't likely to come up in casual conversation."_

"_Jack," Alex answered instantly. By the time that name came from his lips again, it would be time to start shooting._

_Smithers nodded. "While I disagree with what you're doing, I must say I've had some challenging experiences with these weapons, and since I had to completely remake them, I've added some of my own special touches."_

_Alex chuckled. "Of course you have."_

"_This one," Smithers held up one of the guns, this one with a red line around the barrel, "fires heat seeking bullets. Each round has a mass of micro circuitry in it. I'm afraid I can only give you thirty of these bullets, as there wasn't much time. Testing proved that it will seek out the highest heat source available to its sensors. Just in case, I would suggest you put this one in your ankle holster."_

_Alex nodded. He picked up the one with the blue line around the barrel. "And this one?"_

_Smithers smiled. "That, my dear boy, is my pride and joy. It's completely voice activated. The safety word you picked will power it up, and from there you have a choice of three commands. 'Thermal' will flip up a target screen which will give the thermal reading of whoever you're aiming it at. 'Line up' will target and fire at up to three targets all within the same area. There's enough power in this thing to push a bullet through all three, though you must manually use the trigger. And the last command is simple. 'Lock' will fire three bullets in rapid succession. For normal use, simple pull the trigger. All ammunition have built in micro navigation sensors."_

_Alex grinned. "Smithers, you're in the wrong business. This is genius." There was no way to tell how specially designed and digitalized the guns were. They looked like normal hand guns, standard issue for most federal agents. He picked up the last one. "Dare I ask?"_

"_Actually, that's just a normal gun, with the exception of the finger print recognition and voice activated safety. This is the one I recommend you carry on your hip. It uses standard ammunition, which we can give you a good supply of, so there's no need to be careful with how much you use."_

_Alex nodded. "And the ID?"_

_Smithers picked up the small leather pass case. Inside was a plastic card no bigger than a credit card. "This will get you on the plane with the guns, and past any security. It will also inform authorities as to who you are, and who you work for. It's not guaranteed, Alex, Mi6 has long arms, but in Russia, not everyone is a friend."_

"_I understand."_

"_And should you need an immediate escape from said authorities, simply press your thumbnail into the ditch at the bottom. That will turn the card into a smoke bomb, with a delay of a five count," Smithers grinned at his own humor. Alex smiled too. One way or another, the ID card would get him out of trouble._

"_Thank you, Smithers. For everything."_

_Smithers nodded sadly. "You know there's no turning back from here, don't you? There'll be no way out, if you succeed. They won't let you go after this."_

"_I know, Smithers. But I have nowhere to go anyway," Alex answered softly, silently pleading with the only man who just might have a chance of talking him out of it._

"_Right then. Take this." Smithers handed him a blackberry. "It's a scanner, communicator, and GPS. It also has my direct number, should you need any more specialty items. It also has a voice activated command. If you say the word 'dead' it will transmit one last signal back to us to inform us of your death, and will then self destruct. I very much hope you won't need it, but it will finalize our dealings with you."_

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Alex turned back to the face in the file, and for the first time, began to question his motives. Was he aiming at SCORPIA because he couldn't bring himself to kill the only link to his past?

Yassen was a strange man who had, on several occasions, both saved and ended his life. Why was it that every time something major happened, this man was at the root of it? Were they connected, somehow? One fate to parallel another?

And there was a feeling that Alex couldn't shake, like this was all too perfect, too organized. Anyone who knew him, and whether he liked it or not, Yassen did, would know that Jack's death would send him over the edge. They _had_ to have known what would come next, that Alex would come seeking revenge.

Was this a trap, of some sort? Had he become enough of a nuisance that SCORPIA would go to all this trouble to lure him to them? If it was a trap, it was extravagantly done. The perfect setup. Alex Rider goes off on a suicide revenge mission, and is never heard from again.

Alex shifted again, his unease translating to his nerves. Something wasn't adding up. There were so many strings being attached to him and pulled that he really couldn't tell who was pulling which ones.

There was only one man who had the answers.

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Stepping out the front doors of the Sheremetyevo International Airport, Alex inhaled the cold air. January in Russia, and he was standing there in jeans, sneakers and a light jacket. Most definitely not one of his brighter moments.

He carried with him only a single duffle bag that he hadn't let out of his sight for a moment. Moscow had quite the criminal reputation. Shifting it higher onto his shoulder, he lifted his arm to call a cab. He studied the vehicle that pulled up carefully, then got in, shrugging his shoulders.

After giving the address, he sat back. He could feel the driver glancing at him every once in a while, assessing him, weighing him. Finally, irritated, Alex looked at him through the rear mirror, and pulled aside his jacket, revealing the gun at his hip.

"I wouldn't even think about it, if I were you. I've had a bad day," he growled menacingly, knowing the fake driver for what he was.

The driver dropped him off at the address, and left without waiting to accept the money. Alex looked up at the building that was to be his home for the next several weeks. Posh. Russian architecture was always a wonder to behold, and as the country hosting the most millionaires in the world, Moscow had been modernized without losing it's touch of tradition.

He walked up to the door man, wondering how this was going to work if the man didn't speak English, and he didn't speak a word of Russian.

The older man smiled. "I am Gieve, and you must be young Mr. Rider. You are on time, your Flat is ready." He held open the door.

Alex nodded and entered without saying a word. Gieve shut the door behind him, obviously quite used to the treatment. The lobby was as posh as the outside, bright and sparkling with traditional Russian art.

His Flat was on the top floor, and when he entered it, he whistled. MI6 had definitely not spared any expense. He had a couch, a kitchen table, a computer desk with a very fancy looking computer sitting on it, his bed was a king size four poster, a large high boy dresser and a nightstand. There was a flat screen telly that was probably at least 52 inches, along with a home theatre section and a mass of DVD's. There was even a small home gym tucked away in the corner. It was all open concept. The only actual room was the bathroom, and one large closet for his things. There was no overhead light, but plenty of lamps spread throughout the room.

As nice as it all was, he was even more surprised to see the living room littered with surveillance equipment. Cameras, screens, a telescope, and a case that mostly likely held bugs. Throwing his duffle bag on the black leather couch, he noticed a note stuck to the DVD player that said 'Play Me'.

He did so, and laughed as Smithers face came up.

"Hello, old boy, and welcome to Moscow. I'm sure you've already figured out by now how dangerous a place it can be for a young boy alone. There are several security systems in place around your Flat. The first, you might notice, are the balcony doors. They're bullet proof, as is the bathroom window. If you'll turn and look at the door, you'll notice a palm scanner hidden in the panel by the knob. Only _you_ can let someone else in, otherwise they can beat at the door all night and all they'll accomplish is pissing you off," Smithers chattered happily.

Alex laughed out loud.

"You'll take note of the surveillance equipment we had brought in for you. To keep an eye on your neighbors, as I'm sure you've guessed." Smithers coughed. "The doorman, Gieve, has been thoroughly checked out. He's a harmless old man who can't afford to retire. Once you boot up the computer, you'll find a file on him. Mrs. Jones wanted to bug your Flat, but I couldn't do it, in good conscience. You deserve your privacy on this mission, and this Flat may be your only retreat."

Alex sighed, thanking the man. Smithers always seemed to think of everything. Tired from his long flight, Alex took off his jacket and started taking off his holsters as Smithers voice continued on the telly. Smithers went on to tell him how to use each piece of equipment, it's ranges, and apologize for it not being of his own make. By the time he finished with it, Alex was down to PJ pants and was rummaging in the kitchen for something to eat. There was plenty of snacks, cereal, drinks, crackers, but nothing to really cook anything with.

"I expect by now you're finding there's little food in the kitchen. Here's the thing, Alex. You're going to be expected to live a certain lifestyle. Unlike most countries, the rich are among those less noticed in Moscow, mostly because no one wants their attention. In your account, there is a large sum of money. Your rent is already prepaid for two months. The money in the account is to suit you for the lifestyle. Clothes, parties, booze and girls are the general motto of the young around there. There is a daily cash limit of $10,000, which we fully expect you to need."

Alex had stopped all foraging of the cupboards. They didn't _really_ expect him to live like that, did they?

Smithers chuckled. "I almost wish I was there to see the expression on your face, instead of giving this over a DVD. Don't forget you still have to find a way to get _to_ your target, and that will mean you'll need the freedom to move around the city unnoticed, and perhaps even make a few contacts. A boy your age should have already been immersed in these activities for some time now, so do be careful not to show your inexperience."

Alex blushed deeply.

"And don't blush," Smithers ordered sternly. "Beautiful women are a dime a dozen around there, my lad, and they don't much care so much about age as they do your wallet. In the medicine cabinet in the bathroom you'll find a bottle of aspirin. They're not, in case you didn't guess. They're alcohol inhibitors. They will work to bind the alcohol in your system to a certain extent. With good acting skills, you can appear quite drunk while still maintaining the majority of your alertness. Needless to say, the more you drink, the less they work. Unfortunately, they will make you quite ill the following day, in which case the larger bottle of aspirin is just that. You will find a fully stocked bar by pushing back the panels of the Kitchen breakfast bar."

Alex checked it out, whistling. It was definitely fully stocked!

"As for eating, you will be expected to dine in the finest restaurants. I should expect Gieve will be able to help you with that. Doormen are usually useful like that. Now, lad. I don't know your experience level with the opposite sex, or the same sex, for that matter, but let me warn you. Prostitutes are a part of your lifestyle, but be very careful, because they most likely _aren't_. They are easily paid off, so never take one home unless you intend to finish the deed, or they will begin to speculate and are capable of blowing your cover. Moscow is riddled with crime lords, and most of the prostitutes belong to them."

Smithers scrunched his face onscreen, as though thinking. "I do believe that to be that. If it helps any, this is what is called deep cover. It was your father's favourite part of the job."

Alex laughed.

"Well, good luck my boy, and do be careful. I look forward to seeing you again."

The screen went blank, leaving Alex to shake his head. He had never been treated like this before, and could see his fathers reason for enjoying this side of spying. He didn't like the idea of being forced the mingle, but had to admit, it made sense. He hadn't thought of how he was going to get in to the Summit, merely that he had to.

Exhausted, and definitely overloaded, Alex fell into the bed, surprised at it's comfort. He would think tomorrow.

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	3. Learning the Ropes

AN: Warning: Rough sex. Now, I wouldn't personally consider it overly graphic, but some might. NC-17 is the rating I would have given it in Area 52. So, read as you may.

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CHAPTER 3- Learning the Ropes.

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Alex sighed as he sat in front of a bottle of vodka. He had been sitting here for quite some time, trying to force himself to drink. The alcohol inhibitors would only dilute most of the alcohol. Before he tried them out in public, he had to find his limits, first. He'd been here for two days, and Gieve had thought to be helpful and introduce him to one of the other teens living in the building.

The boy was just shy over eighteen, and his nickname, or at least Alex hoped it was a nickname, was Mutt. They'd met earlier today, and Mutt had invited him to join a party on Saturday, in two days.

He had only left the Flat to eat and to withdraw his daily allowance. He didn't want MI6 to know that he wasn't fully immersed in his cover yet, and figured the disappearance of the money would cover his distraction. He kept the money in a safety box under his bed.

He had been keeping an eye on the building across the way from him through his telescope. He hadn't seen Yassen yet, but some deep instinct told him that the man was near.

He glanced longingly at the telescope now. He would much rather be staring at an empty apartment than the bottle in front of him. He had watched his Uncle fall into a bottle a time or two, and Ian Rider had not been a pleasant drunk. As such, he'd always stayed away from it, preferring to keep his body healthy.

The doorbell rang, startling him. He frowned, wondering who it could be. He quickly used his hand to flip up the telescope as he walked by, and was glad he had put away the other equipment.

Opening the door after having his palm scanned, he was surprised to see Mutt standing there, a bottle of Smirnoff in his hand, his other arm around a girl.

"Hey Alex. Thought we'd come up and welcome you proper like." The boy pushed his way past Alex and into the Flat. Confused, Alex closed the door, not sure what was happening. He took a look at his guest.

Mutt had joked, the first time they met, that he really was a mutt. His mother was American, while his father was Russian. They had moved here to complete some high end deal that Mutt cared nothing about.

The boy had brown hair with green eyes, was about 5'11", and Alex estimated him to be about 170lbs. He certainly seemed attractive enough, but there was something about him Alex couldn't quite put his finger on. He wore black slacks, a light blue shirt, and a dark sports jacket.

Mutt caught sight of the bottle on the kitchen bar, and grinned. "Looks like we're on the same page after all!"

Alex shrugged, and glanced at the girl. She was pretty enough with long blond hair and amazingly blue eyes, but they were lacklustre, and he deeply suspected she was paid company. She wore a tight black dress that barely covered anything and a light pink jacket. She also wore stiletto heels, and walked quite confidently on them. All were very expensive looking.

Still, she seemed happy to be draped over Mutt's arm, so Alex let it be. He moved carefully to the kitchen and took out two shot glasses, deciding that Mutt and company could share. He didn't particularly want to do dishes any time soon.

"You're awful quiet, Alex," Mutt grumbled as he poured himself a shot.

Remember his cover, Alex grinned. "I just wasn't expecting to see you before Saturday."

"Yeah, well, Missy here and I decided we were in the mood for some fun tonight. Since you're new here, I figured I'd come up and drag you out with us. Missy can help you find something to wear," Mutt said as he patted Missy's behind, shooing her in Alex's direction. "She's very good with the local fashions and trends."

Missy moved to his closet, but Alex stepped in front of her, his hand held up in a 'stop' motion. "Ah, that's okay, Missy. I appreciate it, really, but I prefer to dress myself." Yep, definitely paid company, and, it seemed, Mutt intended her as a gift for him. Alex sighed, wondering what he should do now.

Mutt laughed. "I forgot you were British. You guys are pretty stuck up about that kind of thing, aren't you? Well, bro, here, there's no rules. Except that you have to play by no rules."

Alex nodded. Well, he'd needed a guide to the nightlife of Moscow if he was going to maintain his cover. And Mutt seemed more than willing to befriend him, and even offer up excuses for him. Perhaps because he was a foreigner himself. It might be worth having him around if Alex messed up too badly.

"We can go out, but I'm definitely getting dressed alone. Just tell what we're walking into."

Mutt shrugged. "A night club. There aren't many around, but it's one of the best. It's got some weird Russian name, but most of us called it 'Fuzz'." Mutt eyed Alex up and down. "Just dress sexy, and you'll be fine. Come' on Missy, let's go wait for Mr. Modesty outside the door."

Alex was prepared to let them go, but remembered the scanner, and rushed ahead of them, opening the door and waving Missy through, as though he were treating her like a lady. Obviously not something she was used to because she blushed.

Mutt groaned. "English manners aren't going to fly here, buddy."

Alex shrugged. "A little courtesy can go a long way with the female psyche."

Mutt stared at him for a moment as though he were from outer space, then grinned knowingly. "Gotcha. Hurry up and dress."

Alex closed the door, sagging against it. He wasn't ready for this. Closing his eyes, he knew he was going to have to make a decision tonight. Either he was under cover, some rich man's son trying to get away from his parents, or he was a spy and might as well announce it to all of Moscow.

Throwing open his closet, he found himself staring at the clothes inside. Thankfully, MI6 had prepared this for him too. He'd discovered the clothes yesterday when he'd unpacked his duffle bag. All high brand names, all very expensive. And all had a certain style of class to them.

Grabbing some clothes, he threw them on. He quickly put on his ankle holster under the pants, and chose a nice pair of black loafers. Not exactly great weather wear for the frigid temperatures outside. Thinking quickly, he filled his wallet and pockets with cash, having it accessible in every pocket or lining he might stick his hand into.

He opened the door again and locked it behind him. He could feel Mutt and Missy both looking him up and down. He'd chosen a black Armani long sleeve shirt with beige jeans, and a black sports jacket over top. Turning back to them, he held out his arms.

"Inspection?" He joked.

Joking or no, Missy circled him twice, and finally stood back. She looked at Mutt. "I don't know. His clothes look good, there's just something- off."

Mutt sighed. He snapped his fingers at Missy. "It's his hair. It's all over the place. Give me your purse." She did so, and he fished out a tube of hair gel. Squirting some on his hands, he rubbed them together before roughly shoving them through Alex's hair several times, making sure to get the back too, then messed it up with his fingers. When he was finished, he stepped back and used a wetnap from Missy's purse to clean his hands.

Missy was nodding. "Much better. Now it looks like he did it on purpose."

"Come on, let's go. Dad's given me the limo for the night," Mutt instructed.

Alex followed him out, not quite sure what to make of the scene in the hallway. Gieve met them at the door, and he, too, gave Alex an appraising look. He turned to Missy and Mutt.

"He dressed himself, didn't he?"

"I offered. Besides, he looks good, and his accent will win over anyone," Missy chuckled. She leaned over, to Alex's surprise, and gave the older man a kiss on the cheek.

Mutt, seeing Alex's expression, leaned over and whispered, "She's his niece."

Unfortunately, that made it all the more confusing for Alex. Surely Gieve knew Mutt was paying Missy for her company, however willing she might appear? They got into the Limo.

It wasn't until they were moving that Alex remembered he had forgotten to take the inhibitors.

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An hour later, Alex gasped for breath as he pulled away from Missy and returned to Mutt, who was sitting at their table with a leggy blond waitress on his knee. Mutt grinned.

"She wore you out, did she?"

Alex laughed. He had to admit, he was having a good time. He'd managed to avoid drinking entirely by allowing himself to be dragged on to the dance floor. The rave music pounded through his chest, but he didn't care.

"I guess so. I need some water," Alex gasped, looking around for another waitress, as theirs appeared to be preoccupied.

Mutt chuckled. "There's vodka on the table."

Alex shook his head. "Water first." He watched as Mutt pushed the waitress off and sent her off to fetch what Alex wanted. He poured them each a shot, but waited patiently for the water.

Curious, Alex couldn't help but ask. "I thought you were with Missy?"

Mutt chortled. "I _know_ you know Missy is paid for. Besides, she's my gift to you tonight. Treat her well, and she'll know the right friend for you."

"And if I don't?" Alex asked cautiously.

Mutt shrugged. "Then your nights are going to be very cold, my friend. Word gets around those girls like you wouldn't believe."

Alex nodded and sat back. There it was, then. His way out. He couldn't afford to have a girl at his Flat every night, and he thought he was getting to know Mutt well enough to know the young man would try for just that. Sighing, he was surprised to find he didn't find so much as an ounce of guilt for what he was planning to do. But then, he hadn't felt much of anything of late. He was here for a reason, and nothing beyond that mattered.

He grabbed the shot glass and downed it. Mutt laughed, and poured them each another one. This time, Alex didn't hesitate and downed that one too. He was going to need it tonight.

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They were loud as they banged their way down the hallway from the elevator to his door. Alex had Missy on one side of him, Mutt on the other, and he really wasn't sure who was holding who up.

They got to his door, where Mutt took Alex's arm off his shoulder. "Well, I have to go. It's been a blast, Alex. Missy, you take care of my boy!" Which actually came out as, 'll, I hafta go. It nn a blst, lex. Missy, you tke care of m'bo!'.

Missy chuckled. It was only now that Alex realized she hadn't touched a drop all night. "Hey," he slurred as she guided him into the flat. "You didn't drink!"

Missy smiled. "I never drink while I'm the job, and as soon as Mutt hits town, I'm working 24/7."

Alex nodded as if this made perfect sense, which to his muddled mind, it didn't really. "Does your Uncle know what you do?"

Missy sat him on the bed. "Of course he does, silly. It takes all of our incomes to make do, though we do a lot better when Mutt's here."

Alex smiled. "You really like him, don't you?"

"He's a good friend to me, and while he definitely has his own problems, he's very generous."

She started to undo his buttons, but he pulled away, his mind fighting through the haze enough to realize she shouldn't see the gun on his ankle. Instead, he lifted his hand to the back of her neck, and kissed her. With his other hand, he undid the buckle for the holster and kicked it under the bed.

Not quite as smoothly as he would have hoped, however, and he toppled backward so that he was lying on the bed with his knees draped over the side of it.

Missy giggled. "How about you let _me_ do the work?" she purred, reaching to unbutton his shirt again. Once it was open, she delicately kissed her way over his chest, and around his navel.

Alex closed his eyes and moaned. He'd never pictured losing his virginity to a prostitute, but somehow, he couldn't find the energy to care. His whole being was in this mission, and he would do what it took.

He could feel as she worked open his pants. When she tugged, he lifted his hips a little to let the jeans slide off of him. She rubbed her cheek against his silk boxers, and the odd sensation stirred him.

She tugged at those too, but Alex opened his eyes and shook his head. "You first," he said. Nodding, she slowly shed each article of clothing. Sitting up, Alex moved to nuzzle the smooth breasts in front of him. He heard her moan as he attacked the hard little nubs at the end of each with his mouth.

He bit and nipped at the breasts and down her navel, but rose again before he got to the part she obviously wanted him at. That wasn't part of the plan. Tonight, he was going to take his own pleasure, in his own time. He had no consideration for her whatsoever.

Standing up, he removed his boxers, letting his erection spring free.

Missy grinned. "Quite impressive for someone so young."

Alex didn't answer, just sat back down on the bed, pulling her along with him until she was on her knees in front of him. He leaned over to nibble at her earlobe, sending shivers down her body, but then whispered, "I promise you, you _won't_ enjoy this. You can go back to Mutt now. It'll be the _only_ chance I offer you tonight."

Startled, Missy sat back. She read eyes that were suddenly very clear, and glinting dangerously. She hesitated only a moment. She knew she couldn't be sent away, as much as she didn't like the look in the boy's eyes, she knew she had to stay.

"I'll stay," she whispered.

Alex nodded, and immediately grabbed her roughly by the hair, drawing a sharp cry from her. "You're choice," he muttered, and shoved her open mouth onto his prick. He moaned as he felt her gag reflex on his tip, but didn't care as he held her in place and viciously fucked her mouth. She struggled to back away, but he had a strong grip.

Alex closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the sensations she was creating. It was bloody wonderful! But not enough. Not nearly enough. He pulled her hair, taking her mouth off of him, and dragged her up. Her eyes were bright with tears, but he didn't care. There was no turning back for him.

He threw her down on her back on the bed, and spread her legs. He could hear and see her whimpering and was mildly surprised to find that it only stimulated him more. He parted her and shoved himself in as hard as he could.

Missy cried out. Alex panted as he drove into her time and again, her cries of misery fuelling his desire. He moved a hand to her throat, and clamped it tightly, being careful not to cut off her air supply completely. The strangled gasps that came from her throat pushed him farther over the edge and he shoved himself deep inside her one more time, crying out as he came.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard, and finally loosening the grip he had on her throat. It would leave bruises, he had made sure. He could feel her shaking underneath him, her breath hiccupping as she sobbed quietly.

But still, he couldn't bring himself to feel remorse. Nor could he when he took her several times that night, each more roughly than the last. Not even when she limped out the door, bruised, crying, and obviously in pain.

He simply returned to bed and slept peacefully.

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	4. No Surprises

CHAPTER 4- No Surprises.

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Alex smiled as he watched the party going on around him. It was Saturday night, and as promised, Mutt and Missy had shown up at his door again. He hadn't flinched when he saw the bruises on her throat. He'd merely grabbed his coat and left with them.

They'd been here for two hours, and he had to admit, he was bored out of his skull. There was music playing, and several people on a makeshift dance floor, while the booze flowed freely. None could be above eighteen, while the youngest appeared to be about thirteen.

He watched them carefully from his perch in the corner. Each one told a story in how they moved, how much they drank or didn't. Unfortunately for him, almost all of the stories were the same. Spoiled rich kids taking advantage of lax laws and being almost untouchable.

He was so intent on watching them, that he almost didn't notice Mutt come up beside him, two drinks in hand. He shoved one toward Alex.

"You must need a refill by now," Mutt encouraged.

Alex nodded and accepted the drink. He had remembered his inhibitors tonight, but was still laying off the stuff. His stomach still wasn't quite right from his last bout. "Thanks."

Mutt nodded, and shuffled his feet. Alex wondered why the charming and energetic young man seemed shy all of a sudden, but then he understood. He grinned. "Oh, and I never got around to thanking you for sending Missy to me the other night."

Mutt coughed. "Do you think you might want her again?" he asked carefully.

Alex laughed and shook his head. "I'm not like you, Mutt. You can only ride the same horse so many times, right? To be honest, yours was a little tame for my tastes."

Mutt laughed now, obviously glad he wouldn't have to send his toy to be so badly damaged again. "Missy will be disappointed, but I'm sure I can think of something to help her get over it."

Alex smirked. "I'm sure."

"So, are you going to sit here all night watching, or come have some fun?" Mutt asked.

"I don't know these people."

And that was all it took. Mutt happily took over the chore of introducing him. Alex smiled, was polite and charming, while mentally taking that list of names and adding it to his observations he'd made earlier.

He was quite satisfied, however, when every time a woman appeared too interested, Mutt would carefully but quickly steer her away from him. He was careful never to interfere if Alex was the one who showed the interest, however mild, but he wasn't exactly encouraging, either.

The night went by quickly, and by the end of it, inhibitors or no, Alex was once again quite drunk. Mutt and Missy again both helped him to his apartment, but this time he entered alone.

As soon as he closed the door, Alex staggered over to the kitchen sink to wash his face. He was definitely going to have to find a way to get out of drinking next time. He was leaning over the sink, his face dripping wet, when he sensed it. Someone was in here, with him. He listened hard, but couldn't hear a sound, not even the whisper of a scuff as whoever was here moved.

He sighed, and without turning around, said, "I knew you'd come to me."

When he didn't get an answer, he slowly turned around, leaning his back against the sink for support as he crossed his arms. Sure enough, Yassen Gregorovitch was standing in his Flat, dressed casually in jeans and a plaid shirt. The man seemed utterly unconcerned with having been caught out.

Alex sighed. "I need to know what happened that night."

Yassen frowned. "I think you already know. That's why you're asking me instead of trying to kill me."

Alex chuckled. "I would think the rather copious amount of alcohol in my system might be taking care of that, too."

"It was very foolish to let your guard down, Alex. If I had wanted to kill you, you would be dead by now," Yassen growled. "Especially since you've made no attempt to hide yourself."

Alex shrugged. "Are you going to stand there shaking your finger at me, or answer me?"

Yassen sighed. Alex watched him move to the couch, graceful and silent as a cat, and sit down. Ah, so apparently this was a social visit.

"Tell me what you _think_ you know," Yassen requested.

Alex frowned. "I don't think you killed her." He scrunched his nose, trying to think. But he was just too tired, too wasted. His stomach was starting to rebel as well. "It's only my crazy theory, but I think that SCORPIA somehow managed to piss of MI6, big time. MI6, in turn, plays nice until they can think of a solution."

Alex took a steadying breath as his stomach lurched, and he was pretty sure it wasn't all because of the alcohol. He had come to this conclusion on his own some days ago, but it hadn't gotten any easier to swallow since then.

"Their solution was me. I'm the only one crazy enough to go after an organization I know nothing about. Unfortunately, what they lacked was a motive strong enough for me to accept. I think MI6 were the ones who ordered the hit on Jack, knowing full well I would go after whoever did it, regardless of personal sanity or peril," Alex concluded.

Yassen arched an eyebrow. "Actually, that's pretty good."

Alex shrugged. "I've been at this a while. I know how the game is played, even if they don't think I do."

"So why come here at all?" The assassin asked.

"Because I needed your help," Alex replied honestly. "I might know the game, but I'm by far not it's best player."

"And what made you think _I _would help you?"

"I don't, actually. I think SCORPIA will force you to do it if it's in their best interest. I'm more than willing and fully capable of going into that Church in a few weeks and wiping out every single Executive Board Member there. I'm not stupid, Yassen. MI6 might have ordered the hit, but it was SCORPIA that accepted the contract," Alex hissed.

God he was tired, tired of playing games and trying to figure out the rules as he went along, tired of being used by everyone around him. He just wanted it to end.

"And you don't think MI6 might have considered the possibility that you would figure it out?"

Alex snorted. "Of course I did. The one thing you can always count on is Alan Blunt being paranoid. Why do you think I've let Mutt and Missy hang around? I know bloody well they're MI6 agents. Raw out of the recruiting camps, but still agents none the less."

Yassen arched an eyebrow. "You've come a long way, Alex. I'm not sure if your competency in this area is good or bad. I _saw_ what you did to the girl. I have my own surveillance on this building."

Alex shrugged tiredly. "Hey, if Missy can whore herself out for her country, who am I to turn it down? Besides, Mutt would have had a woman in here every night if he could have, trying to figure out what I'm up to. I had to _strongly_ discourage any further attempts."

"You've been playing a very dangerous game, Alex. How did you know?"

"What _is_ this, twenty questions? They screwed up when they said Gieve was her Uncle. The file they sent me on him was too clean, too perfect. A nice old man who couldn't afford to retire. I suspected, but Smithers vouching for the man confirmed it. Besides, his English is impeccable."

Yassen sighed. "So is mine. It's not much to go on."

Alex smirked. "Yeah, and I don't trust you either." He glanced down.

Yassen looked down, surprised to see a red dot appear on his chest as it moved away from one of the red plaid squares onto a black one. He looked up again to follow the angle, and saw a gun hiding under Alex's crossed arm, blending in with the dark color of his shirt, being held at an angle. If Alex had fired, Yassen would have been dead before he'd realized what had happened.

"_Very_ good, Alex. I'm impressed. Your father would have been proud," Yassen admitted, more than a little disturbed.

"Somehow, I doubt he would be. So, are you going to help me take down MI6 or not?" Alex pressed, exhausted and just wanting to get some sleep. It was tempting to never wake up, sometimes. But he had the mission. Jack deserved to have her revenge, and he had sworn to her parents that it wouldn't go unanswered.

Yassen frowned, considering the boy in front of him. This was _not_ the boy he had met on the rooftop months ago. _This_ Alex Rider was cold, calculating, and ruthless. MI6 had managed to build their weapon, but had done so without giving it direction, or instilling any sense of loyalty. Their hit on Jack Starbright had pushed him over the edge and into something they had never known was lurking beneath the surface.

"Are you sure this is a road you want to travel?" Yassen demanded. "There will be no chance to turn back from this," he warned sternly.

Alex laughed, and Yassen detected a hint of hysteria in it. "There never is. You took care of any chance I had when you killed my Uncle. _You_ put me in this situation, Yassen, and now I need _you_ to help me get out of it. However you know my father, I think even if you don't owe me, you owe _him_ that much."

Yassen nodded. "Very well."

Alex sighed, and put away the gun. "Just one more thing. Who got the contract for my Guardian, and where is he?"

"I don't know. But I can find out."

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	5. Dark Pleasures

AN: Uh, yeah, the name of the chapter kinda says it all. Consider that your warning.

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CHAPTER 5- Dark Pleasures.

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Mrs. Jones entered the office of Alan Blunt, frowning over the report in her hand.

"Have they reported?" Blunt asked.

"Yes. Alex is well and truly under cover, and the two agents have exposed him to some of the upper echelon kids in the area. It won't take Alex long to find out which of them is connected enough to get into the Summit," Jones reported.

"Is there something wrong?"

"I'm not sure. Agent Farrow reported that Alex seemed quite willing to take Agent Gunning to his bed, but once he did so he was- well, she described him as _brutal_."

Blunt arched an eyebrow. "Alex would hardly be the first agent to take his frustrations out in the bedroom. We have no prior information on his involvements in that area, and it's not beyond thought that he simply likes it that way." He frowned. "Or do you suspect Alex knows who they are?"

Mrs. Jones shook her head. "Neither agent has reported any signs of that. Alex has turned down any further involvement, sexually, with Agent Gunning, however Farrows reported that Alex is in good humor, and is still more than willing to befriend them. He believes Alex is using him to explain away any mistakes he might make in front of the others."

Blunt nodded. "Make sure they are aware that they are to continue to offer Alex anything he wants. Agent Gunning accepted this mission knowing her own sexuality was going to most likely be used. We need her in his bed and in a position to be there frequently. We need to know how he's proceeding."

Mrs. Jones hesitated only a moment before nodding. "He seems to be quite focused on his mission. Farrows reported that Alex spent a good part of the party last Saturday observing the participants, but was very pleased to be introduced to them. However, I fear that Agent Gunning is no longer an option."

Blunt frowned. "Is she refusing to have any further participation with Agent Rider?" He stressed Alex's status. Agents did as they were told, and whatever it took to complete the mission. Personal discomforts weren't an option.

Mrs. Jones shook her head, and flipped through her file. She read directly from the page. "This is what Farrows wrote: _Agent Rider seems disinclined to accept any further activity with Agent Gunning. His response, directly quoted, 'I'm not like you, Mutt. You can only ride the same horse so many times, right? To be honest, yours was a little tame for my tastes'. And he has since showed little to no interest in any one else."_

Alan Blunt looked at her, hard. "Then find him another horse, Mrs. Jones."

"Alex wasn't raised with these activities. Here in London sexual activity before the age of eighteen is greatly frowned upon. Couple that with his recent loss, and it's possible he was purposely brutal to discourage any further attempts."

Blunt shook his head. "He's a hormone ridden fourteen- almost fifteen- year old boy, Mrs. Jones. I highly doubt that he is capable of being so ruthless. If Agent Gunning isn't to his taste, then find someone who _is_."

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Alex sighed under the steam of the hot water. He knew Mutt would be here any moment to pick him up, but he didn't care about being late. He needed these few moments alone. Since his first appearance on Saturday night, three days ago, Yassen had come back every night. He wanted to have an idea of what Alex was capable of, physically, and had been testing him. He'd also been going over various scenarios of his past assignments to give Alex some possibilities on how to advance his plan in entering MI6.

He didn't think the assassin would be back tonight. Yassen seemed to have been content with the last testing session, and Alex was pretty sure the man would remain at home tonight, working out a training curriculum.

It was strange to think how much their relationship had changed over the past few nights. He just couldn't keep it in his mind that Yassen Gregorovitch was the enemy. He was dangerous, lithe and canny, but when it was just the two of them, it was hard to think of him as anything other than a normal man. A very attractive man, and one who understood him.

It confused him on several levels. He couldn't quite bring himself to trust the man, but neither did he mistrust him. Unfortunately, there was also another question being brought to his mind. The way his body reacted to seeing the man shirtless was unsettling.

Was he bi sexual? Was it simply a natural reaction to having his sexuality woken by Missy? Or was he starting to find a like soul in Yassen that attracted both his mind and body?

Alex closed his eyes and brought his hand to fondle himself, not surprised at already being semi hard. Thoughts of Yassen usually did that to him. He stroked slowly, leisurely, feeling himself swell as he pictured the two of them sparring. He groaned in frustration when he heard the door bell. Damn lousy timing.

He shut off the shower and grabbed a small towel to wrap around his waist. He rather enjoyed Mutt's look of astonishment when he opened the door, wet and in nothing but a towel that did nothing to hide his current condition. He didn't blush as he moved aside to let the undercover agent in.

"Did I, uh, interrupt something?" Mutt asked with a grin.

Alex grinned, an idea forming in his mind. Missy had been willing to whore herself for MI6, would Mutt be as well? Mutt was attractive enough, and had an athletic body. But Alex found it wasn't Mutt himself that kept him turned on. It was the fun that could be had at the agent's expense.

He should have been surprised at himself, but he really wasn't. As far he was concerned, the day he had found Jack lying dead in her own bed was the day Alex ceased to be a part of the human race. He was a creature of leisure. He lived for himself now, and for what _he_ wanted.

Mutt laughed nervously. "You've got a very strange look in your eye, Alex, and I'm not sure that I trust it."

Alex shrugged casually. "I guess it's rather more important to know if you're interested in it?"

He could see the moment Mutt understood what he was saying. He revelled in the internal dilemma that was surging through the agents mind, all visible on his face. It only served to drive his sexual interest higher. He prowled closer to the man, coming right up into his space. He knew both agents were under orders to get someone, anyone, into his bed at night, hoping that he'd reveal his plans through some carefully coded pillow talk. Mutt couldn't go out and just find him a male prostitute, because wouldn't understand what he was being told.

Mutt took in a shaky breath, and smiled. "I didn't think Missy was your type, but I didn't know for sure."

Alex smiled, and Mutt had the thought that he very much looked like a predator toying with his prey. He shivered. He knew what Alex had done to Missy, and wasn't under any illusions that Alex would be any more gentle with a man.

"And do you think _you're_ more my type?" Alex growled in his ear. He could practically _taste_ the fear coming off of the agent, and loved it.

Mutt licked his lips, and looked Alex right in the eye. "I think you know what you want, and I like that."

Alex nodded and nuzzled the man's throat. "Good," he purred.

Mutt closed his eyes at the sensations Alex's light kisses were creating on his sensitive skin. He moaned and moved his hand to the back of Alex's head as the boy sucked hard, marking him. He felt the boy's hands moving deftly to unbutton his shirt, felt the calloused fingers roam his skin for a moment before moving to his pants. All the while, Alex's mouth hadn't left his throat, leaving marks and light kisses equally in it's wake.

Alex used his bare foot to pull at the agents pants, causing them to fall to the floor. He slipped his hand into the briefs that did nothing to hide the erection under them, and found the shaft swelling under his touch.

He surged at it. How had he never guessed at the raw power that came with sex? This man was his to do as he wished with, was, in fact, wantonly begging for it, even though he had to know what was coming.

Mutt moaned again as Alex moved them backward toward the bed, his activities never letting up. He could feel how hard Alex was, and reached over to grab away the towel, leaving the boy wonderfully naked, with drops of water still beaded on his shower warm skin.

His eagerness surprised him. He'd never been with another man, never been attracted to them. But there was a raw energy radiating off of Alex, an intensity that transmitted itself sexually, forcing him to respond. He was helpless against it.

Just before they hit the bed, Alex worked his way up to his ear, licking the outside of it before whispering, "you know what's going to happen. This is your one and _only_ chance to get out."

Mutt closed his eyes and shivered at the hot breath. There wasn't a part of his body that Alex hadn't totally sensitized with his roaming hands and mouth. Every part of his being was begging Alex to keep touching him. His mind knew he was going to regret it if he stayed, but right then, it seemed any price was worth paying, if only Alex wouldn't stop. He answered honestly. "I couldn't leave if I wanted to," he panted out.

Nodding, Alex backed them both onto the bed, pulling Mutt down on top of him. Mutt responded immediately, licking the last droplets of water off of the boys throat and chest. He laved one nipple and then the other, loving how Alex arched into his mouth, gasping.

He knew he couldn't last much long, and he suspected Alex couldn't either. He remembered being fourteen. He brought his own cock into contact with Alex's, groaning at the rush of sensation.

Alex pushed back up at him, and they moved together, each seeking more friction. Mutt tried to outlast the boy, but he couldn't. It was so delicious between them. He mewled softly as he came, shooting onto Alex's toned abdomen.

Alex allowed him only a moment to catch his breath before he flipped the agent over onto his stomach. Scooping the cum off himself, he spread it onto his cock. It had been good, but this was what had wanted. He spread the two cheeks and lined himself up.

Without asking, or warning, he pushed himself in, Mutt's cry adding to his lust. He gripped the agent's hips and drove himself deeply into the warm channel, closing his eyes at the tight sensations. He groaned as Mutt's traumatized muscles spasm around him. He waited only a moment before pulling back and driving himself in again, hissing.

Mutt closed his eyes tightly as the boy rammed into him, and bit his lip. His world was one of pain, but he didn't dare beg for it to stop. This was part of the silent agreement he had made. He couldn't stop himself from trembling. He had underestimated the power of the boy, and he swore, he wouldn't do it again.

Alex drove harder and deeper with each stroke, but Mutt's cries were far and few between. He needed more, he realized. He was on the edge, but needed to be driven over it. Without thinking, he withdrew completely, ignoring Mutt's soft outcry. It wasn't enough. Quickly, he roughly drove himself all the way back in.

Mutt screamed, his muscles clamping down, giving Alex the edge he needed as he came, grunting. Out of breath, he lay panting for a few seconds covering the agent's back. Then he heaved himself up, pulling out sharply, and walked to the bathroom.

Mutt didn't dare move except to roll over, which told him enough to know he was going to be walking funny tomorrow, and there would be no way to hide it. He wanted to run, to get away, but knew he couldn't. He forced his face into an expression of calm as Alex came from the bathroom, still naked, but clean. The boy threw himself onto the bed beside him.

"Are you wishing you'd left?" Alex asked.

Mutt forced a smile to his trembling lips as he shook his head. "Not at all."

Alex rolled over, his back to the agent, and smirked. "You will."

Mutt frowned at that, but took the hint. Alex wasn't a talker, his breathing already levelling out as sleep took him. He rolled back onto his stomach and quickly fell asleep.

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Mutt blinked awake, knowing someone was touching him again. It wasn't a sensual touch, and it took him only moments to remember what had happened earlier. He felt his cheeks being parted, and could only sob in fear. No! It was too soon! He couldn't do it again!

But as he opened his mouth to voice the words, they were replaced by a scream of agony as Alex pushed himself in again, taking him with even more ferocity than he had before. Already tender because of the earlier intrusion, Mutt couldn't stop his screams this time as the boy took his own pleasure from Mutt's broken body.

It was only now that he remembered Missy reporting him doing much the same to her, and taking her frequently during the night. Alex didn't seem to sleep for much more than an hour or so before waking again. Mutt didn't know why he'd forgotten such a detail. Had he thought, perhaps, that because he was a man, Alex wouldn't use him as harshly?

He screamed again as Alex continued his brutal assault on his ass, hissing with pleasure. Just when Mutt thought he'd go mad from the pain of it, Alex came, hard, trying to push deeper.

And the night continued in it's eerie pattern.

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Mrs. Jones frowned at the report she was staring at. It didn't seem possible. She re-read the words there for the hundredth time.

"_Agent Rider is powerful in his seduction. Even knowing what I did, I couldn't have left if I'd wanted to. He had total control over me. There was a darkness to it I couldn't fathom, but couldn't deny. He plays with his victims, bringing them brief moments of security and pleasure, before utterly destroying them._

_We were informed he was inexperienced, but both Agent Gunning and I disagree. Alex has pinpointed exactly what brings him pleasure, and is knowledgeable enough to get it. I would not have thought him capable of such atrocities at such a young age. His pleasure comes from the pain of others, and I suspect that his grief over his guardian has transcended to his sexual desires._

_However, he seems to be maintaining his focus on his mission. While he doesn't talk much during previously mentioned activities, he seems quite comfortable in the morning. He continued with his cover story, however was seeking information on the individuals I had previously introduced him to. The questions could have been harmless in nature, had I not known what he was seeking. It is my belief that Agent Rider is still attempting to locate a method to enter the Summit._

_I was forced to seek Medical Attention the following morning at the local hospital. No questions were asked, so no cover was created._"

It didn't sound like Alex at all, but then, the Alex Rider who had boarded the plane to Russia had been a stranger then as well. The boy had lost everything. It was what they had planned for, calculated, but had they planned well enough?

The details in the report were horrifying. To be capable of such things at such a young age was almost unimaginable. But then, she thought, this is what _they_ had done to him. Alex had no real control over his life, was it any wonder that he would find a way to take any measure of it he could?

Both Agents reported that Alex was still on track with the mission. Perhaps it was time to trust him, and pull them out. She rose to speak to Blunt. If Alex hadn't turned on them by now, it was most likely he never would.

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Alex stared at the boy in front of him, surprised. "You're leaving?"

Mutt sighed, poured them both another shot, and nodded. "My parents are finished with their business deal and we're going back home. Missy will be going back to wherever she goes when I'm not here."

Alex took the shot to hide his smirk. MI6 was recalling them. Was it because of what he'd done to them, or did Blunt finally trust him? Somehow, he suspected it had little to do with the latter. He schooled his face.

"Huh, it's going to get pretty lonely around here," Alex answered with a seductive grin. He watched as Mutt blinked, then shook his head. The agent had been sharing his bed almost every night for the past three days, and yet despite that, still managed to stay constantly balanced between begging for it and wanting to run away. Something Alex pretended not to notice, but secretly enjoyed the rush of. "Do you suppose one of your friends could keep me company?" Alex asked innocently.

Mutt shook his head. "Somehow, Alex, I don't think that any of them are in to your particular style."

Alex nodded, confirming what he needed to know. None of the others Mutt had introduced him to were under MI6 control. "What about Missy? You must have a contact number for her?"

"Missy has issues with the fact that you chose me over her. It's been quite interesting, sparring for your special attentions," Mutt laughed.

Alex grinned and poured another shot. "One more night then, before you go?"

Mutt hesitated, but then caught sight of that glint in Alex's eyes, that hunger that begged not to be denied. His body practically hummed with the sexual intensity Alex was throwing off. He'd required medical attention everyday after the boy was through with him, he could barely walk, and sitting was agony. His throat was covered in bruises from Alex's fingertips as Alex asphyxiated him while ravaging his ass.

And still he found himself nodding. "We leave tomorrow morning. One more night, Alex."

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Mutt lay sobbing his relief as Alex came once again. His body was on fire, his soul was crushed, and he wondered why on Earth he'd ever gotten back into bed with this boy. He cried out as Alex roughly pulled out of his abused body for the fourth time that night, unclamping his hand from Mutt's throat. He watched as Alex went to clean up.

He automatically put a hand to his throat, as though he could feel the bruising under the skin. Alex had discovered he enjoyed taking him on his back some nights ago. It was harder, more painful in some ways, but a relief in others. Alex couldn't drive as deep, though he had found leverage to drive harder. He was thankful Alex had started using lube after their first night. His hand fell away as he felt the bed dip.

Mutt was surprised when he opened his eyes and found Alex staring at him. Normally Alex would use him and immediately go back to sleep, as though building energy for the next round. It was a short peace that Mutt had learned to use to brace himself.

The sexual predator was gone, and instead Mutt found himself looking back at a boy more vulnerable than he would ever admit. The boy looking at him seemed a little lost, and very alone. For the first time since meeting him, Mutt saw the boy for what he was, a child. Given their trysts, it seemed wrong to suddenly see him this way, but he pushed it to the back of his mind.

"Can I trust you, Mutt?" Alex asked hesitantly.

Mutt nodded. "Of course you can, Alex. We're friends."

Alex sighed, and rolled onto his back pillowing his head on his arms. "I need to ask you some questions, but I can't tell you why I'm asking them."

Mutt forced himself to look curious. "Okay. What do you need to know?"

"The kids you've introduced me to, are any of them, you know, connected?"

Mutt frowned. "You mean as a couple?"

Alex sighed and shook his head. "Never mind." He rolled over.

Mutt didn't hesitate in spooning up to him, putting his chin on the boy's bony shoulder. "Alex, I want to help. I just don't understand what you're asking." Alex rolled slightly, so he could see Mutt's face.

Mutt had to refrain from holding his breath as Alex seemed to scan him, looking for a way to trust him, to get the information he needed. This was it! This is what made the previous nights of agony worth it. He almost sighed in relief when Alex rolled onto his back again so he could face Mutt, who propped himself up on his elbow.

"I mean do they know any big name people? I need to go to the Cathedral in a couple of weeks, and I need a way in," Alex explained.

Mutt shrugged. "Why don't you just walk in? It's under construction, but there's no reason why you can't go in there."

"There's a- a meeting going on there that I need to be at, but am most definitely not invited to. Walking in the front door doesn't really work."

Mutt frowned, and pretended to study Alex carefully. "You're not a cop, are you?"

Alex laughed. "If I was I would have turned you in for statutory rape a while ago, don't you think? Besides, I'm a bit young for that."

Mutt closed his eyes as he thought. Then he opened them with a grin. "Why don't you get onto the construction crew? I think Shelby can help you with that. Her father has the contract on the Cathedral."

Alex grinned widely. "Yeah! Thanks, Mutt. You know, I'm going to miss you," he chuckled.

Mutt couldn't help himself, he leaned over and kissed the lips that had tortured him so luxuriously every night, leading him willingly to a world of darkness and pain. He drew back. "Believe it or not, Alex, I'm going to miss you too."

Alex smiled. "You'd better go while you can still walk onto the plane. The sun will be up soon, and your parents will be wondering why you're not packed."

Mutt nodded, grabbed one more kiss from the boy, and dressed quickly. He laughed when he turned and saw Alex standing with the door open, wearing nothing but a robe that wasn't tied too tightly.

"You, Alex, are the devil's own temptation," Mutt chuckled as he left.

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	6. Spark of Humanity

CHAPTER 6- Spark of Humanity.

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Alex dropped his grin the moment he closed the door. He turned back to his room, staring at the balcony. He walked over and opened it.

"Enjoy the show?" he asked the assassin, moving aside so the man could come in. So much for not showing up tonight. He had become aware of the man's presence around the third time he'd taken Mutt. He could have gotten rid of Mutt then, he was determined not to let Yassen spoil his fun.

Yassen shook his head. "You play too many games at once, Alex. Was it really necessary to damage the boy so thoroughly?"

Alex shrugged as he sat on his bed, grinning. "Probably not, but it was more fun."

"It would have been simpler to kill them both," Yassen growled.

Alex snarled. "That's not very smart, Yassen. MI6 would have known something had changed. This way, they think I'm deep in my cover and Mutt will report back that I've found a way into the Summit."

"Why did it matter?"

Alex hopped off the bed and bent underneath it. He located the safety box and brought it out, putting on the bed. Entering the combination, he threw open the lid. There was easily almost a hundred thousand dollars in cash in it.

"This is why. I can't afford to MI6 to cut off my cash supply. I've flashed enough to keep my cover, but I've been stashing the rest," Alex explained.

Yassen arched an eyebrow, impressed, but curious about it, as he sat on the bed as well. "Alex, you are aware the odds of surviving your coup on MI6 are very low?"

He would barely admit to himself that the thought pained him. Everything about this did. Alex had grown into a man, despite his age, and that man was a killer. He'd told Alex about his father, but it hadn't fazed the boy in the least. He had set a course and was determined to see it through, no matter the cost.

Yassen recognized that in him. His father, John Rider, had been much the same in many things, but never quite as ruthless as Alex was obviously capable of being. John had done what was needed, but he had rarely taken any sort of pleasure from it.

He was sure that John would never have wanted this life for his son. He would have wanted the boy safely, in school, making friends and going through the normal trials of youth. But Yassen had unwittingly taken that chance away from the boy, and immersed him into a world Alex simply hadn't been prepared for.

But in the end, this was where all paths led. Alex's destiny had been written almost from the moment he was born. MI6 had tried to harness it, and had failed. Instead they had unleashed a force more deadly than they ever could have anticipated.

Alex nodded. "I know. If I don't survive, it's to go to her parents. You'll find them, I'm sure."

Yassen frowned at that. "_I _will find them?"

"You can't come with me, Yassen. I need you to train me, help me come up with a plan, but no, you can't come. As you said, the odds of succeeding are next to nil. I _won't_ sacrifice you for _my_ grand crusade," Alex explained softly.

He had decided that, too. He was nothing, a spec on the earth existing only for the moment when he would take his revenge. Nothing else existed for him, nothing else mattered. Except the man standing in front of him. His last spark of humanity was for this man, and he wouldn't sacrifice it in the name of revenge.

Yassen frowned. "Your crusade, as you call it, will mean a shifting of power to SCORPIA. They will not let you take it on alone."

Alex laughed. "They don't have much choice, do they? _I _hold all the cards, here, Yassen, and I will _not_ sacrifice the last thing on this earth I give a damn about just to appease them."

Yassen sighed and closed his eyes. He shifted to get off the bed, but Alex's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Don't, Yassen. Don't deny you feel the same way. I see how you look at me, sometimes, as though you're trying to figure out if I'm a man or a child."

Yassen looked back at the eyes that had haunted his dreams since meeting him. Then, they had been innocent, though angry. Now, they were the eyes of a killer. But the change hadn't stopped him from wanting them.

The nights he'd spent with Alex had been a form of private torture. He couldn't deny his attraction to him. It was beneath him to do so. The boy was most definitely attractive, and held a power that Yassen couldn't begin to comprehend. He had watched him use that power to get what he wanted, and had vaguely wondered if Alex were capable of using it in any other way.

What was harder to admit, however, was that it went beyond merely a sexual attraction. He cared for Alex. Was, in fact, in _love_ with him. He couldn't explain why. He couldn't say when it had happened. It simply had, and as with all things, Yassen had accepted it as a part of himself. He wasn't inhuman, nor did he pretend to be. He had emotions, needs and desires like any other. He was merely better at suppressing them than most.

But to be offered it on a plate? To be able to taste what he had denied himself? More curiously, was Alex capable of feeling anything anymore, or would Yassen simply be another means to an end?

"Have you decided?" Alex asked quietly.

"Decided what?"

"Whether I'm a man or a child."

Yassen cocked his head. "I think you're both, Alex. Moving from one to the other however it might suit your needs. I think MI6 has underestimated how dangerous you are, and I think that you have underestimated how vulnerable you are."

Alex licked his lips. "But do _you_ want me?"

Yassen sighed, resigned to his fate. "Put away the cash box, Alex."

Alex nodded and complied. He should have known Yassen wouldn't. The man was a professional killer. They had a mission to complete, and it would be done. Even if he survived, Alex would probably never see the man again.

He stood up, almost afraid to turn around and face the assassin again. He was surprised when he felt gentle hands on his shoulders, fingers that moved up his neck to cup his face. He leaned back a little into the firm body behind him, closing his eyes. Yassen's height advantage on him meant he merely had to slightly turn his head to take those fingers into his mouth, sucking on the tips.

He shivered as he felt Yassen's breath ghosting his ear. "I want you for as long as I can have you," the assassin whispered, emotion coloring his voice.

Alex nodded. If they couldn't be human with each other, when the rest of the world demanded they be stone, then they were lost. Here, between them, it had to be Alex and Yassen, not Agent and Assassin. He was surprised not to feel that desperate need to control that had driven all of his other encounters. For the first time, he simply wanted to surrender.

Yassen smiled as the boy melted under his touch. This wouldn't be about power, this would be about feelings, something both thought they had long since become incapable of.

He slid the robe gently off of the boys shoulders, kissing across them and at the base of his neck. Alex turned his head away, exposing his throat, letting the movement beg for the attention it so desperately wanted.

Alex shivered as Yassen complied, ghosting his lips over the skin, raising goose bumps. Despite his earlier activities, Alex found himself hardening again. And with it came _need_. He moaned as Yassen bit him, hard, in the crook between his shoulder and his neck.

He turned in the man's arms, his fingers finding a foothold in the gaps between the buttons and he pulled. The shirt came apart and he pushed it off. He was already working on the jeans by the time it hit the floor.

Yassen continued to hold him, as if sensing that it was the only thing grounding Alex to the moment. His kissed, sucked and nipped at Alex's throat, and revelled in the feel of Alex's rapid pulse beneath his lips. He let his pants fall, and without breaking stride, kicked them off his ankles.

He pulled back for a moment. "Are you sure you want this? It won't be like the others."

Alex nodded. "I'm sure. Right now, it's the _only_ thing I'm sure of."

Yassen kissed him, hard, some part of him wanting to make sure Alex was safe here, in his arms, if nowhere else. Alex responded in kind, taking anything Yassen was willing to offer him.

Alex broke away, gasping. He needed more! He guided them both to the bed, then laid his body lengthwise over top of Yassen's. He suckled the adams apple that tempted him with every swallow, then moved down to the nipples resting in a light smattering of hair. He nipped at one, then the other, enjoying the growls that came from the deadly man under him.

This was a new kind of pleasure. This was taking pleasure in giving it, and having it received. He felt a new surge of interest in realizing it could be this way, too. His hands moved down to take the proud shaft into his hand, and was mildly surprised at it's thickness. He raked his finger nails over the sensitive skin, swallowing Yassen's groan with his mouth as he kissed him.

Yassen felt the tongue over his lips, gently asking for permission to enter, and opened his mouth, entangling his own with it. The hesitancy of the tongue contrasted sharply with the sure, firm movement of the hands on him and combined to pull him far too close to the edge.

He expertly flipped them over, careful to move most of his weight onto the bed, and not be too heavy on him. He broke off the tango he had been dancing, gasping, and looked down at the wonder beneath him. Sweat lightly coated their bodies, both were panting from the exertions of being slow. Brown eyes almost black with lust looked back up at him, trusting, wanting, needing. "Alex-".

"Please," Alex begged breathlessly. He didn't understand what he was begging for, but he knew he needed, and that Yassen could provide it.

Yassen nodded. He reached under the pillow where he knew the lube remained from earlier tonight. He knew he should turn Alex over, make it easier, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He needed to see the boy's face.

His fingers lube, he reached down and found his goal. Before he could touch it, Alex surged up to grab a hold of his lips again, at the same time, pushing his ass onto the waiting finger. Yassen moaned in the kiss. He pushed a second digit in, scissoring to open the tight ring of muscle.

Alex broke away from the kiss, arching his neck backward as he hissed in pleasure. Yassen was transfixed by the sight of it. He'd had a lot of lovers in his past, but none had been as beautiful in their responsiveness as Alex. He had to close his eyes to keep from coming then and there.

"Now," Alex whispered pleadingly. Yassen opened his mouth to protest, but Alex stole the words by lightly nipping his bottom lip. "Don't care. Now," he demanded again, using his hips to fuck himself harder on the fingers in his ass.

Yassen removed his fingers, knowing Alex wasn't ready yet, but not being able to deny him, or himself, for much longer. He pushed Alex gently onto his back, and lined himself up. He pushed past the ring. He stopped when Alex gasped, whimpering, his muscles clamping tightly around the crown. He was shaking with the effort of going slow, but was determined not to hurt him.

Alex started to move his hips again, working himself farther onto Yassen's prick, making the older man moan. Finally unable to remain still Yassen pushed himself deeply into the welcoming channel, groaning as Alex arched his back, wrapping his legs around his waist.

Yassen continued to stroke into the willing body, then changed his angle. He was rewarded when Alex cried out in surprise, his entire body tensing at the onslaught of pleasure as Yassen hit his prostate with each stroke.

Alex used his heels as leverage to push Yassen into him faster. He had completely abandoned himself to what was happening. That desperate need had faded the moment he'd felt the assassins fullness inside him, replaced with a gentle urging for more.

He cried out again as Yassen took his leaking erection into his hand, stroking firmly in time with his own ministrations. It was more than Alex could take. He arched and came harder than he ever had, shouting out, his climax bringing about Yassen's own.

They lay gasping together, riding out the last waves of their orgasms, as the sun crawled slowly up the sky. Had it only been a bare two hours since the man had been hiding outside on his balcony?

Alex stretched, enjoying the delicious sensations still coursing through him. He felt whole, and a peace settled over him that he hadn't known since before his Uncle died. Yassen beckoned him over, surprising Alex, but he went willingly. He laid his head in the crook of Yassen's arm and moved his hand over the man's chest. Yassen's arm immediately cupped his shoulder, bringing him closer. Alex slipped his leg between Yassen's and settled, content, comfortable and drowsy.

"What were you thinking about, just now?" Yassen asked, having seen the flash of something darker cross Alex's face as he moved.

"My Uncle," Alex answered. He felt Yassen tense, but shook his head. "Don't. Life is what it is, and there's no point in wishing it would change."

"And where do we go from here?"

"From here we take out MI6. Until then, we enjoy the ride," Alex explained, pushing himself up and out of the warm and welcoming arms. He wanted to stay there forever, but he hadn't lost his focus.

He showered and dressed quickly, moving to make some toast while Yassen did the same.

Yassen stood watching. Finally he cleared his throat. "If you have any images or ideas of me, you should get rid of them. Here, with you, I am only a man."

Alex nodded. "I know."

"Do you?"

"Yes, I do. But I still need you to train me," Alex stated. "And I can't afford to want something worth living for." He turned to Yassen. "Neither of us can."

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	7. In Motion

CHAPTER 7- In Motion.

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Alex closed his eyes against the pain that flared in his back. He lay, gasping, on the gym mat he had bought. He knew he should bounce back up, but he couldn't. He needed just a moment to get his breath back. This was the fifth time Yassen had knocked him down in a row.

"Get up, Alex," Yassen ordered calmly.

Alex shook his head. "I need a minute."

"MI6 is going to have agents swarming over you in seconds. No one is going to give you a time out," Yassen hissed harshly.

Alex growled at him, but dutifully pushed himself back up. He shook out his limbs and took up another fighting stance. He still hadn't been able to land a hit on the other man, but at least it was taking longer and longer to knock him down.

They'd been at this for four days now, each more intense than the last. Alex was determined to learn everything Yassen could teach in such a short time. This had included several forms of fighting, bomb mechanics, poison methods, and target practice.

Two days ago, Yassen had given him the name and location of the man who had held Jack's contract. The assassin had been here, in Moscow, preparing for the Summit as most of SCORPIA's top agents were. Alex had slipped out over the balcony during the night, and returned within the hour. Jack's killer was dead. Smithers had been right. There was no satisfaction in it, no great sense of accomplishment that he had gone up against one of SCORPIA's best and come out without a scratch. It had been a job that needed to be done, a single bullet fired, and it was now complete.

Yassen had known, of course, and the two had made love rather roughly afterwards. But he hadn't mentioned a word about it. SCORPIA must have known it would happen before they ever gave Yassen the information. Apparently, having Alex turn on MI6 was worth the price of one operative.

He was saved by door bell ringing. Confused, Alex opened the door only an inch, surprised to see Gieve's face. "Hello Gieve." He was suddenly conscious of being half naked and wearing only track pants.

"Your dinner was delivered downstairs, Alex. I thought I would bring it up for you."

Alex grinned. Check up on him, more like. He hadn't left the Flat since Mutt had left four days ago. "Actually, Gieve, I need a favour."

"Anything!"

Alex reached to the table behind him and grabbed his wallet. He took out the MI6 debit card and handed it through the door. "I'm trusting you here, Gieve. Tomorrow morning I need you to run to the bank and take out fifty thousand dollars. Can you do that?"

"Of course, Alex, but why wouldn't you just go yourself?" Gieve asked curiously.

Alex affected a sheepish grin. "I'm, um, entertaining."

Gieve nodded happily. "A strapping young man like yourself, I've no doubt. I'll bring the money by around nine thirty. I take it your- entertainment?- will be leaving tomorrow?"

"Yes. I've got something pretty big coming up and I can't afford the distraction," Alex responded instantly. "I'll see you tomorrow Gieve."

He closed the door to find Yassen lounging against the bar, a bottle of water in one hand. "You know he didn't ask for a pin," he pointed out.

Alex shrugged, and grabbed a bottle for himself as he placed the bag of dinner on the bar. "Doesn't tell us anything we didn't already know. Where were we?"

"_You_ were being beaten up by a man almost twice your age. _I_ was trying to show you how to stay alive," Yassen growled, an arm thrown Alex's waist pulling him closer. He grabbed Alex's lips in a rough kiss, biting sharply on his bottom lip. Alex responded by nipping him back, but then sighed.

"Alive isn't the goal, Yassen," he reminded gently. The past few days had been a wonder to him. He'd never been in a relationship before, and most certainly hadn't known what to expect from another man. What he had found was that a relationship was simply that, a partnership. Gestures of affection or interest didn't much change between the genders, merely between the sort of people involved. He'd been surprised to find Yassen was a deeply affectionate man, but also refused to take it easy on him in his training.

It seemed almost cruel to have to remind the man of that. He got the feeling Yassen wasn't accustomed to such an open relationship either, where both men knew what the other did. There were no secrets between them, no need for them. Both had found something in each other that they probably couldn't find anywhere else. But Alex knew that both had a destiny outside this Flat. He had his mission with MI6, and Yassen would have to continue with SCORPIA.

He felt Yassen's arms tighten around him, and looked up to see the man staring at him with an intensity he hadn't seen before, a flicker of emotion the man didn't bother to hide. "Neither is suicide."

Alex closed his eyes and laid his head on the man's chest, absorbing the warmth coming from the skin under his cheek. He didn't answer. He couldn't. He knew what the likely outcome was, and for now, he was content to take whatever small happiness he could. He sighed, and then pushed himself away.

"Well, then, we'd better get training."

Yassen shook his head. "We're done with that for today. The only way you're going to succeed is to go in shooting. We need to work on your targeting skills."

Alex growled. "We did that yesterday, and I was one hundred percent bang on every time."

"Yes, but you were slow on the reload. Whatever your goals are, you need to stay alive long enough to make it to Blunt's office."

"After supper. I'm starved."

They ate quietly for a moment, before Yassen asked, "What are you going to do about Gieve?"

Alex shrugged. "The Summit is a week away. Tomorrow is going to be my last withdrawal. I'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon."

"How are you planning on leaving the country?"

Alex swallowed his mouthful and grinned. He took out the cell phone Smithers had given him and flipped it open, pressing the speed dial. Holding it up to his ear, he waited.

"Allo?"

"Smithers!"

"Alex! What's wrong?"

Alex put an edge on his voice. "Jones was wrong! The Summit isn't being held here, it's being held in London! What am I supposed to do?"

"Calm down, dear boy. How do you know the information was falsified?" Smithers asked, though Alex could hear a tinge of panic in his voice.

"How secure is this line?" Alex asked hesitantly.

"Oh, yes, good point, my lad. I'll speak with Mrs. Jones immediately, but I suspect you should be prepared to return to London immediately," Smithers replied.

"I have something I have to finish up, first, but I'll be ready by tomorrow afternoon," Alex confirmed, flipping the phone shut.

Yassen opened his mouth, but Alex held up his hand, his fingers splayed. He lowered each finger as he counted. "two- one," he said, and the phone rang again. Yassen smiled and shook his head.

"Smithers, is that you?" Alex asked.

"No, Alex, it's Mrs. Jones. There will be a ticket waiting for you to board the flight to London. It leaves at three pm tomorrow. Will you be ready?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones."

The line went dead, and Alex flipped the phone shut again. He grinned. "As easy as that."

"You seem to have it well in hand. I have just one question. Why have you had me teaching you how to make bombs?" Yassen inquired. A part of him knew the answer, but he wanted to hear from his lovers mouth.

"This will get me into Blunt's Office for an immediate debriefing. But taking out Blunt and Jones isn't enough. All of MI6 has to fall. I've got a computer virus ready to download from my cell phone that should wipe out any information stored on me. The last detail to look after was to destroy the building, and everyone in it," Alex answered.

"You won't make it out in time. As soon as you've dealt with the two heads, there will be agents all over you. But then, you never planned to make it out, did you?" Yassen asked, as the whole of Alex's plan fell into place. He sat back. "And your friend, Smithers?"

Alex sighed. "Casualty of war, I'm afraid. As are the innocents who will be standing outside the bank."

Yassen nodded. Not for the first time, he realized how cold Alex had become. "And yourself, as well?"

"This was always the plan, Yassen. I just didn't have the skills to pull it off until you gave them to me. And no, I _never_ intended to get out. My mission was to see MI6 wiped off the face of the earth. Once that's done, I have no life to return to. I'd spend the rest of my life on the run as a fugitive, or end up scooped up and working for someone like SCORPIA." Alex sighed. "I'm sorry, Yassen, but I'm tired. I just want it all to be over."

Yassen nodded. "Well then, if this is the last night we have together, let's make it memorable, shall we?"

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Alex looked up at the Royal and General Bank, his duffle bag in hand. Yesterday it had been full of cash, but Alex had opened an account and stored it there, along with instructions on what to do with it should he fail to reappear in sixty days. Today it was full of normal clothes, and wires.

He felt dressed for his mood today. He had dressed in black jeans, a black t-shirt and a knee length Armani cotton trench coat to ward off the chill of the winter. He had donned black loafers that had a solid grip on the bottoms. For the ice, presumably. The last accessory to all this was a pair of mirrored wrap around sun glasses that would give him a thermal view from one of his previous missions.

"For you, Jack," Alex said out loud, activating the three guns. He sighed and walked into the bank. He flashed his ID card and kept walking, knowing the receptionist recognized him. He continued on to the elevator, dropping a piece of what looked like chewed up gum in the planter beside it. It was in fact, a piece of C4 with the detonator invisible in the dirt. Yassen had plenty of handy things around his own Flat in Moscow and had happily shared them.

He took the elevator all the day down, and turned left, heading for Smithers workshop which had been squirreled away under the main offices. He planted his little balls of C4 over every surface he came into contact with.

Entering the man's workshop, he carefully attached a larger brick of C4 to the doorpost, out of view, then he smiled. "Hello, Smithers."

The jolly man looked up at him and grinned. "Alex, dear boy! I was hoping you'd find a way to sneak down to see me before they got their hands on you."

Alex grinned. "I needed a moment to see a friendly face, first." He picked up what looked to be a watch but was actually a small bomb. "Is this workshop bomb proof or something? Is that how you get away with playing with this?"

Smithers chuckled as he took the watch back from Alex. "Actually, it's quite silly, really. For all the high tech surveillance, there isn't a lot of security features on the bank itself. If a bomb were to go off in here, it would bring down the entire building, especially since one of the rooms here is loaded with various gases. No, there's a room down the hall that is bomb proof where they let me do my testing. It won't take on any big, mind you, but it's safe enough for the kinds of things I come up with."

Alex laughed easily. "So what kind of explosion will this give you, then?"

"We're going to be testing it in half an hour to find out that very thing. I am hoping for a larger one than usual. Some of the agents have been complaining about the fact that all my explosions can do is blow a keyhole," Smithers frowned.

"Don't let them get to you, Smithers. Your gadgets have saved my life more than once. Well, I expect I should go up and take my lickings," Alex sighed. He leaned over, planting two more balls under the work bench.

"Don't let them get to you, old chap, it's not your fault their information was wrong. It does happen on occasion. The important thing is that you caught it in time and can fix it," Smithers reassured.

Alex smiled. "Thank you, Smithers. You've been a good friend to me."

With that, he turned and left.

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	8. The Final Draw

CHAPTER 8: The Final Draw.

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Alex walked confidently into Blunt's office, nodding at Mrs. Jones as he passed her. Then he stood in front of the desk, his arms crossed.

"How did your contact in Moscow know about the change of location?" Alan Blunt demanded.

Alex smirked. "You're not even going to welcome me home?" he asked. He could see it in the grim man's eyes the moment Blunt realized he was in trouble, realized what a mistake they had made with Alex Rider.

He caught Mrs. Jones moving toward the door in his peripheral vision. He whipped out his arm and she was dead before she could so much as take in the gun in his hand. He turned to Alan Blunt, aiming.

"Your mistake was putting out the hit on Jack. By taking her away, you took away almost everything I had to live for," Alex snarled.

"You'll never make it out of this building, Alex. Someone else will just replace me," Blunt replied confidently.

Alex nodded. "I know." And fired. He could hear people running outside the office, but took a moment to download the virus into the computer. Then he placed another brick of C4 on the desk. Much more effective than bombs, he thought. He was glad Yassen had reluctantly parted with his entire supply. Being in love with a well connected assassin had it's privileges, after all.

He looked out the glass doors, watching as agents swarmed toward him, guns drawn. It was as if he were watching it in slow motion. Making his decision, he dropped his duffle bag, and brought out his other gun.

Bullets came through the glass, breaking it, whizzing past Alex as he moved to dodge them. Firing, he ran straight at them. He knew they couldn't afford to circle him. They would run the risk of shooting at each other, and without their Heads to guide them, at this point they were just trying to either stop him or kill him.

Alex moved forward with a speed he didn't know he was capable of. Bullets brushed passed him, but he didn't care, not did he slow when several left scores across his jacket and skin. One even managed to lodge itself in his shoulder, but he didn't care.

His guns were firing three rapid succession bullets compared to their one, and he was taking out three times as many with each shot, significantly thinning the crowd. It wasn't until he had reached the elevator and looked back that he realized he'd made it through. Looking back, he saw the floor littered with bodies.

He quickly reloaded his gun and took the elevator up. They would be waiting for him once the doors opened, so he moved quickly. Hitting the stop button, he opened the access hatch on the ceiling, climbing up on the hand rails inside. He pulled himself up through it, and grabbed a solid hold on one of the cables. Taking careful aim, he shot the panel inside the car.

He almost lost his hold on his gun when he jerked as the cable pulled him up while the elevator plummeted. The cable was moving faster than he had anticipated. Well, this had been well thought out, what was he going to do now?

Then he saw the emergency door lever beside the floors as he sped by them. He holstered his gun and took off his belt, looping it. The end of the pulley was advancing quickly. As he passed he swung out his belt, the momentum from the cable giving him enough weight to pull up the level. His belt caught, pulling him down the upward moving cable. He grimaced as the skin was rubbed off of his hand until the belt broke, but ignored it. The doors had opened, just enough for him to fit through if he aimed right.

Taking a deep breath, he swung his body backward, then let go of the cable, falling down toward the doors he had opened. His momentum wasn't enough, and he past it. Reaching out, he just barely managed to grab a hold the edge of the doorway. Crying out as it jerked his wounded shoulder, Alex forced himself to pull upward, slowly getting himself over the lip of the door.

Looking around, he discovered he was on the second floor of the main bank. He crouched and peeked over the half wall of frosted glass that served as a wall for the second floor. He could see agents standing in front of the elevator, waiting for him to appear.

He ran along half bent over until he was able to get into one of the offices. The woman working there startled, surprised to see him, but couldn't do more than that as his bullet took out her left eye. He looked around, at saw the window.

Looking down, he gauged the height of the jump. The awning from the first floor would break most of his fall, but it was still going to hurt. Well, considering he hadn't really expected to escape at all, it wasn't a bad trade off. He opened the window and jumped. The awning caught him, and he rolled off of it, landing hard on the ground. He gritted his teeth against the pain as suddenly he felt every scratch, bruise and bullet wound. Still, he wasn't finished. He pushed himself up, thankful he had landed in an alley way.

He walked away quickly, making sure he was at least two streets over. His phone rang suddenly, surprising him. Flipping it open, he grinned. "Hello?"

"Alex, what have you done?"

"Are you testing that watch of yours yet?" Alex asked.

"What? No, I-"

"You've got to the count of five to get into that room, Smithers. I suggest you use it wisely," Alex interrupted, flipping shut the phone.

As promised, he counted until he reached five. Then he brought the phone back up to his lips. "Dead" he stated, throwing the phone as far from him as he could. It flashed and smoked as it hit the ground.

Five seconds later he heard the explosion. It was massive and far greater than he'd expected, but it had done it's work, nonetheless. Everyone inside MI6 was dead. His mission was complete. He turned and walked away, not even bothering to wonder if Smithers had made it clear in time.

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	9. Resting Place

CHAPTER 9- Resting Place.

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Alex stood in the empty house, staring. It was very obvious it hadn't been lived in for near a month. It was dark, though he noticed from the microwave clock that it still had power. He didn't feel like turning on the lights.

He walked to Jack's room, not sure what he would find. But it had been cleaned up, the bed made as if Jack had simply gotten up for the day and hadn't come back.

Alex sighed his exhaustion, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Well, it's done," he told her. "I know it's not how you would have wanted it, but that's it. I'm free of them. They were right about one thing. This is what it was always going to take. I'm just sorry I couldn't have done it before they got to you."

He laughed at himself. "Although I'm pretty glad you're not here to see what I've become. I don't think it was a price you would have been willing to let me pay."

He put his arms on his legs and bent his head over them, the pain from the last few hours finally hitting him as his adrenaline level returned to normal. He shook his head. "What do I do now, Jack?" he whispered miserably.

He hadn't thought this far ahead. Getting out had never been his plan. He had simply kept moving, intent on destroying everything in his path. He had succeeded, and had somehow even managed to come out alive. And now he was lost. There was nothing for him, nowhere to go. He couldn't stay here. Too many people knew him, and would start wondering how come he wasn't back at school, if he had found a new Guardian.

He couldn't go back to school. He was beyond that. He had killed hundreds of people in cold blood, merely for the act of revenge. He had brutalized two human beings in aide of that plan, and taken pleasure in it. He had even managed to fall in love with the world's most deadly assassin.

Alex sighed. He could, he supposed, go to SCORPIA and ask for a job. The destruction of MI6 was sure to earn him some points, but then he'd be right back where he started, being used until he was used up and then tossed away.

God, it didn't matter. He was too tired to think of that. He just wanted to close his eyes and never open them again. Flopping back onto the bed, he decided that it sounded too good to ignore, and fell asleep, not caring that he was still bleeding heavily.

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Alex blinked, finding the harsh light of the sun streaming through his window too bright. Then he blinked again, this time in confusion. Sunlight? Jack's room didn't have a window next to the bed. He forced his eyes to focus more clearly, and realized he was in his own bedroom, in his own bed.

Frowning, he looked down at himself, seeing the multitude of bandages that covered him. Everything still hurt, and his shoulder felt like it was on fire, so he couldn't have been out for long.

He slowly pushed himself off the bed, realizing his chest might be bare, but someone had dressed him in track pants. He listened hard, but couldn't hear anyone in the abandoned house. Reaching over to his bedside table, he opened the drawer and was surprised to find his guns and ammunition in it. Loading the gun he normally wore at his hip, he left the room. "Jack," he said, activating the gun.

Alex made his way carefully down stairs, his back pressed to the wall. A quick glance told him no one was in the kitchen, and he could see most of the living room from the bottom of the stairs. That left only his Uncles office.

His heart pounding, Alex moved around the corners of the house, making sure to glance in every direction. His muscles were tense and ready for anything, while the adrenaline circulating his bloodstream cushioned him from the pain of his wounds.

When he did come to Ian's office, he near stopped breathing. Sitting at the desk, quickly typing, was Yassen Gregorovitch.

Yassen looked up as he heard the sound of laughter coming from the doorway. Surprised, he frowned. Alex looked pale, shaky and like he was going to collapse in about two seconds. "You should not have gotten up."

"What are you doing here?" Alex asked, ignoring the man's rebuke. He leaned heavily on the frame, letting his gun arm drop.

Yassen stood up and had reached Alex's side in a few lengthened steps. He put his arms around the boy's waist, as much for personal comfort as for support. "I had to see if you had made it out alive. I knew you would come here."

Alex let himself lean into the man's support, inhaling his clean scent. "I'm glad you're here," Alex whispered, allowing himself to feel his love for the assassin. "I'm so tired."

Yassen felt him sway, and tightened his grip, pulling the boy closer to him. "Then you should rest. We can stay here for a short time, while you heal." He felt Alex nod, and then go limp in his arms. Concerned, he picked the boy up and carried him to the couch. He quickly checked over the bandages he had made, and cursed. Alex's move from downstairs had reopened some of the gashes. Grateful that his lover was, at least, alive, he set to work again.

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Alex placed the flower gently on the grave in front of him. He had brought only one, knowing that Jack had considered it a waste for people to buy many and then just leave them here.

He and Yassen had been in Chelsea for two weeks. He was healing quickly, and they were getting ready to be on the move again. SCORPIA had an assignment for them that would take them both to China.

He almost laughed, at that. SCORPIA had been ready to hand him the world on a platter if he would join them, as well as a very nice salary. He was already a legend among them. He had been prepared to turn them down, but had known he couldn't. He was steadfast in his devotion to his lover, and Yassen seemed equally determined to remain with him, convincing the Board that where Alex went, he would go too. They had even assigned Alex a code name to go by. He had found it intensely amusing to choose Cub. One last slap in the face of the organization that had created him.

And what else could he do? He knew what he was capable of, now. Life would never be the same. Every once in a while he would wake at night, wishing that he hadn't survived what he had done. He felt no remorse for it. He felt empty. When he looked at the world now, he saw people going about their pointless lives, completely ignorant to what was happening around them.

But then Yassen would hold him or make love to him, and remind him that he _wasn't_ alone here, and that he _was_ still capable of emotion. Would remind him that he still had one more reason to fight for. They lived their lives inside the walls as simply two men in love, and once outside those walls, both men were the stone killers they had been trained to be.

No, not what Jack, Ian or his parents would have wanted for him, and definitely not what he would have wanted for himself, but it was a life. And it was his.

He heard a twig snap behind him, but didn't move. He didn't have to. "Have you come to kill me?" he asked.

"No, lad. I can't even find it in myself to be angry with you," Smithers replied.

Alex turned to look at him. "You know why I did it?"

Smithers nodded sadly. "It was their own fault, I'm afraid. If they had left you alone after your Uncle, well, none of this would ever have happened. But they didn't, and the scorpion they played with finally stung them."

"You could come with me, Smithers. Your talents would be appreciated," Alex offered.

Smithers chuckled. "It would be a nice change of pace, but no, lad, I'm afraid not. You've got your loyalties now, and I've got mine. I just wanted to say thank you, for warning me."

Alex smiled. "You really were a good friend to me."

Smithers studied him. "But you didn't think twice about it when you walked away, did you?"

"No, Smithers, I didn't," Alex answered softly.

Smithers sighed and nodded. "I expected as much. No, I think we're both where we're meant to be. I just hope you can have a peace with it you never could with them."

Alex stood. "I hope I never see you again, Smithers, as we'll both be on opposite sides, but I do wish you well."

Smithers turned and walked away. He had said enough farewells to this boy- this man- and he wouldn't do it again.

Alex watched him go, thinking about what he said. He turned back to Jack's grave, and thought about the lover who was waiting at home for him, preparing for their assignment. "Yeah, we're where we're meant to be."

The end.


End file.
